50 things before 50

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

please make my day as difficult as possible

I love that my girl is a Girl Scout. I love that she looks forward to going to Girl Scout camp each summer. I love that Girl Scout camp encourages carpooling. I love that Girl Scout camp is committed to keeping her safe.

Things I don't love?

Having to show not just the personal postcards for each girl I'm volunteering to pick up (see "encourages carpooling") - which alone seems an adequate means of proving I am, indeed, authorized to take a girl home to her parent who gave me the postcard - but being required to produce a NEW, ORIGINAL parent-signed note each day.

I tried being efficient yesterday by stapling the signed notes, which were dated for the week and provided the girls' names, unit numbers, parent signatures and names of volunteers who would be picking up, but the Gestapo Very Serious Pick-up Coordinator said ohhhhh no, that paper had to stay and a new one had to come each day with whoever was picking up the girls. Doesn't it make sense that if on the first day I'm okay with another mom driving my daughter home, I'll still be okay with it a day later? Maybe I'm missing a crucial piece to the safety puzzle.

Oh, and then I had to sign next to each of the girls' names before they were delivered to my car. This level of security rivals getting galleons out of Gringotts.

AND THEN I am reprimanded for trying to help one of the girls into her car seat before driving down the hill to "a safer spot." Gah.

In the morning, I only drop off Paige because I'm transporting Mason and his friends to their 4-H camp nearby. So it looks like I have a bunch of people to leave at Girl Scout camp, though I do not. The Gestapo One would know this if one actually walked up to my rolled-down window and asked who I was dropping off instead of going to the passenger side, opening the back car door and telling the bewildered non-Girl Scouts inside to get out. Wish I were kidding.

And then I was again reprimanded for helping readjust the kid whose seat I had to slide forward for Paige to get out. Because "there's a long line of people waiting!" (One car directly behind me).

Plus I didn't get a chance to give my girl a kiss goodbye in all the frantic commotion. Tomorrow I wear my Bad Mom t-shirt and make everyone just slow the hell down & lighten up. It's supposed to be a FUN place, right? Disneyland finds a way to keep kids safe without making it feel like a concentration camp; come on, Girl Scouts.

I hope you will use one of your most wonderful expressions on this dipshit next time. When she says something - and I'm sure she will - just laugh hysterically and say "no...really, you meant that? Really?"

Inflection is everything here, and you have mastered it. After four or five applications of this technique, the jerkus may give up and hassle someone who doesn't talk back. Even if she continues the harassment, you will let off some steam.